


spent it all

by CampionSayn



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Anxiety, Connor's still dead but actually a ghost, Depression, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Multi, Playlist, Post-Song: Good for You (Dear Evan Hansen), TW: heavy implications, Universe Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-04-23 03:39:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14323764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampionSayn/pseuds/CampionSayn
Summary: So, let's say that Connor wasn't a figment of Evan's mind after everything went to hell. Let's say there was no forgiveness directed at Evan. Let's say he was in his junior year, rather than senior. Let's say the Hansens moved to New Jersey when Heidi got her degree to become a paralegal.Evan Hansen intends to spend his last year of high school without being noticed. Too bad he overhears something interesting in the school bathroom after his mom starts dating again...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cipherdrabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cipherdrabbles/gifts).



> This is what happens when you become interested in three musicals at the exact same time, have hyper fixation and develop ideas after watching German dark opera movies and listening to Amy Poehler's audio book. I regret a lot, and yet... it kinda worked out.
> 
> Also this is partially a gift for Cipherdrabbles, given that without her taking up some commissions for art over at tumblr, the inspiration for this would have died early so...thanks very much.
> 
> And the playlist is included in the end notes.

_"...Surely you'd be willing to take something that would make you stop fucking up like this? One day I won't be able to get to someone, or freeze you down to slow your blood. Then you'll just be a lovely ornament for this trash heap."_

"To the benefit of everyone else. Sounds perfect."

This game of the straight razor and the vertical lines was not a new one, played out in the middle of the forest, atop a cabin that had sunk into the ground through some sort of natural phenomenon, nobody alive for miles to wander by and only one dead to observe and stop the stupidity when it became too much.

Played out _in the forest_. Not in the bathroom of some abandoned building that might once have been a hospital or an apartment complex, now wreathed with plastic in doorways and along unfinished pieces of what could have been parts to a whole; during some juvenile party everyone in the school was basically invited to, by e-vite, by word of mouth, by just showing up like Connor had vague fond memories of before he really got into pot.

He supposed it was a lot easier to keep a small room freezing cold due to his ghostly nature and the mostly solid walls, but it was a lot harder to talk to Evan when he could hear some drunk bitch singing some Top 50 hit that the dead boy hadn't heard before. The music thudding and echoing even from three floors down.

A lot harder to sound convincing through the vibrations off the walls and the smells of hard liquor and poor men's cigarettes radiating from under the cracks in the floorboards.

If it was possible, Evan actually disassociated  _more_  in this situation. He hadn't even wanted to come, but felt an obligation after he'd overheard the other members of tech support from the school play talking about it.

He'd brought two fire extinguishers, one left next to the back door everyone was entering from, and one outside the room he was inhabiting until the noise died down and he was sure the coast was clear so he could make sure most everyone found their way home safe and then he could just slip away to walk back home through the side streets and alleys left empty at two in the morning.

Vertical lines on the inside and fore side of the right arm, not too deep, but could get messy with blood flowing easily under the pressure and weight of the barber's razor Evan kept sterile and clean and hidden in his back pocket. Horizontal lines only on the inside of his left arm.

Connor couldn't decide if it was an honor and privilege, that tattoo Evan had gotten with the exact flow and shape of the dead's boy's name as it had been on white plaster, save for the ink inverted to white like an old bone... Or, perhaps, if it was a new form of mental torture.

Evan never cut through that tattoo of Connor's name, but everything else was fair game.

Since he hadn't taken the razor out yet and was still trying to get comfortable with the tub and seating position, Connor supposed he might try to dissuade him with their usual little chicken dance. Words fell out of his mouth as easily as the cold temperature surrounding him caused Evan to breathe out little clouds with each huff he made trying to get situated.

_"The secret of life. Surely that's worth something?"_

Evan barely glanced at him as he tugged absently on the shower curtain that bore striking resemblance to the sheaves of plastic in every other room, save for a slightly thicker spread and teal-blue color.

"On the contrary, it's worth nothing. Life has declined in value; not to mention death."

Connor tugged the curtain out of the way, trying not to look at the contrast of Evan's pale against the color available in the room, continuing like this whole thing didn't bother him. He was really quite a good actor, when he got right down to business.

_"The weight and cost of a soul?"_

"Less than the heaviest silver coin."

Connor hated this part of the game, he never won, but it distracted Evan and made him focus on the words and not think for the moment to take the razor out. Which was great, since if someone walked into the room, there was only a flimsy shower curtain blocking off the sight of the emaciated teen who looked like he was a side character in a zombie flick and talking to himself  _(probably high)_.

_"The relics of Oscar Wilde?"_

"...The relics? That's a good one."

Connor didn't get the chance to smile long at finally one-upping Evan's usual expectations. The door to the bathroom on hinges that squeaked with age and wiggled back and forth on the wind roving through the empty building swayed in the silence of the recognition that Connor had something different from the usual, which took thought to a different level.

A different level of thought was also a different level of understanding, both could recognize that.

After all, in the year and more they'd been stuck with each other, they could only open up in a way that was unexpected and rare to their memory. Both intensely private people, being dead hadn't changed that one aspect of Connor's personality, so he tried not to make it a point to dig into Evan so he could try and make it fall away like a worn jacket or a shroud.

Everyone needed their own little protections. For Connor, it was his anger and this existence and ability that came with being a ghost. For Evan, it was his silences, his wandering the woods and roads where no living person could see him; his wearing long, but thin sleeves during the day so he could allow himself the suffering of torn flesh nobody could notice and feel like he was paying the universe back for the act of lying despite the good it did for other people that weren't him in the end.

* * *

He wasn't the same as he once was, nor was he ever likely to be again. It was a bit of a cold comfort as his Junior year played out into its own oblivion, like a shooting star falling through the atmosphere. But he would take cold comfort over the vast emptiness inside of him any day.

Evan knew very well, after the truth came out, that there was not going to be a happy resolution to his story.

And why should there be; the one time he'd tried to venture outside his comfort zone, it had started out with good intentions and devolved into a kind of selfishness that, looking back closely, made him feel like he was a sociopath.

But, here's the thing about coming to the conclusion that nobody, not really, was going to help him anymore after this: He started to see things as they really were.

Removing the clothes from the washing machine, the third load in just three hours, Evan watched his own breath fog up and around the laundry room he was still becoming accustomed to since moving from their old home into a new place that felt a little bigger and wider, but maybe that was because, much like the old house, he was more often alone than not.

Almost, anyway.

Connor Murphy, still wearing the clothes he'd died in, only looking entirely bleached out, as if he'd stood in the desert getting battered by white sands and bathed in sunlight, hovered in the air with a bored expression,  _"Y'know, you're gonna be tired for your first day in your new school after all this. It's not even five in the fucking morning, and you've been up since two. At least sleep for an hour, goddammit."_

The moment he stopped playing with the idea of Connor in any kind of ideal way, his ghost had properly manifested to...well...

Neither of them really knew why he manifested, honestly. And they'd had plenty of time to talk after Evan had his fight with Jared and the suicide note  _(yes, actually, Connor had decided that it was kind of perfect as far as notes went despite not having written it; though he felt a bit bad after seeing the clusterfuck shit-show that came afterwards)_  went viral all over the internet.

There had been yelling, and whispered defense that hadn't lasted more than a couple of hours. Connor screaming debasements at Evan and the other just taking it, and taking it, and completely submitting to being buffeted by the frozen air that clogged the immediate area whenever Connor was agitated, and the way that all the energy Evan had just seemed to be sucked out of him the more angry Connor got.

He'd actually passed out at some point during that night of the first encounter and their first and only really horrible fight. Too cold, in his little room, and no energy after having not eaten for almost three days.

The sandy haired boy had not looked forward to the days that followed, but had been well aware of Connor's presence following him around school and gently, far more than in his life, taking what little he could get by simply being there to observe and comment in turns.

They actually developed a routine and a sort of camaraderie once absolutely everything was out in the open for the world to see; the Murphy family finally coming to the stage of grief reserved for anger; Alana making apologies for the deception but still refusing to remove the Connor Project because of all the good it was doing despite the lies; Jared giving off the impression that Evan had gotten exactly what he deserved with the universal look 'I Told You So' creeping across his face whenever they crossed each other in the school halls  _(Evan wouldn't call him; he was fairly certain his number had been blocked, anyway);_  and Evan's mom not knowing what to say, which meant she gave him space, which meant that they talked to each other maybe once a week for the entirety of Evan's Junior year.

Connor prevented Evan from being isolated entirely once Evan dropped therapy to save his mom money  _(they both knew that once she finished night school and graduated that they'd be moving somewhere where she could actually use her degree to get a better job, so saving her money seemed like the best apology he could give her at the time)._  He talked more to Hansen in death more than he ever talked to anyone in life. And Evan listened and interacted with him.

The ghost also went the extra mile to try and get Evan to take care of himself once the year was out, summer was in and the loneliness swallowed him up like a bad dream. There was nothing he could say to make Evan stop once the other boy discovered cutting; after all he'd done it himself for years. Eating, sleeping, taking his meds at least a couple times a week, on the other hand, was something he could talk Evan into maintaining on a fairly regular basis.

But stress made the bad behavior hard to avoid.

Once the moving happened, the stress went from dangerous highs, to lows that made Connor wonder how the fuck Evan dealt with anything in his life before the ghost showed up.

Living in a more rural area in the state of New York with the view of Lake Ontario and nature all around whenever Evan needed to go somewhere that felt clean so he wasn't suffocating inside his own mind, in a house that seemed small to Connor, but was about a million times more homey than his own house had ever been...

To living in a not quite as rural New Jersey. A stone's throw from New York proper, with actually pretty beautiful architecture and a high presence of theater lovers of all flavors and types; a view of the harbor that brought in a collection of boats and weather that seemed to match Connor and Evan to the letter as time went on. Heidi got a job working for a law firm that handled side work from a bigger office in New York that paid a hell of a lot more than when she worked as a nurse trying to get a degree in law  _(and paying for Evan's mess of a life, as the teen often noted while ripping into the skin of his arms with his own fingernails on bad days),_  which meant that she could afford the two story house they moved into, entirely furnished and with it's own basement and laundry room so they wouldn't have to go out to clean their clothes.

Great for perfectly stable people, but Evan had gone out as soon as he was left alone to find Poricy Park, which was a bit like a dark reflection of Ellison and did not make Connor feel at ease  _AT ALL._

There was a lot of Connor talking to fill in the silence when Evan noted that if something ever happened, it would take a little longer for people to notice.

Perhaps the only upside to the school year starting, Evan being the new kid and a complete unknown in the year to come, was that in his desperation to draw as little attention to himself as possible, he'd had to grow a thicker skin from wandering around the park until closing during the day, and wandering around the city when he didn't have any cleaning to do at home. The few other teenagers that did see the creepy kid always in a dark jacket and the like with the bone white pallor, thankfully, gave him a wide berth.

The school days that followed went as well as could be expected. The teachers didn't have to introduce Evan, because he was starting afresh and there were other new kids, these from Canada and far more noticeable, that drew attention away from him.

Even if any of the kids that had lived there most of their lives did try and talk to Evan at lunch, the fact that Connor was always with him, giving commentary only Evan could hear and lowering the temperature if a curious kid annoyed him, meant that they rarely came back for a second conversation.

About the only kid among the student body that Evan was even vaguely inclined to observe at any capacity was Rich Goranski, and that was because he was under the impression, in his first weeks there, that the shorter boy was also haunted. He seemed to have a slightly hazy being attached to him, much like Connor was for Evan; save for the fact that when Evan tried to approach Rich on the subject, he balked at the implication that he had a spectral apparition following him around. Confirmed spectacularly, given that when Connor passed through Rich to get him to pay attention, the hazy figure...shorted and fizzled...for lack of a better term.

"What the fuck?!"

Rich had, of course, then bent over in agony of his head feeling like it was contracting under the effects of the worst brain freeze of his life.

Jake Dillinger had thought Evan had hit the shorter teen; totally understandable since he'd been at the other end of the hall and only saw Rich clutching his head and looking at Evan like he was the Grim Reaper, but Evan was glad he didn't have to explain the situation when Rich grabbed Jake by the arm and insisted it was fine, "Nothing, man, it's nothing. I've just got a killer headache."

Connor had confirmed that Rich could definitely see him after that, but after Rich had gone to the nurse for aspirin and then returned to class, Jake following him around until the end of school that day, he'd been eyeing Evan like a plague rat and the dreary tree lover decided not to bring it up again unless Rich did so himself.

Honestly, he wasn't sure what he had been expecting. Two students in a theater town in New Jersey being haunted in the same high school had about the same chances of happening as winning the lottery.

Then there were the anxiety attacks that, surprisingly, led to Evan finding himself in the most intriguing situation of making himself become interested in things again once he found himself in the strangest situation a handful of days into the month.

He could usually make himself last until third of fourth period and then slip away during study hall into one of the not particularly clean and well kept water closets, breathing heavy, not at all, Connor whispering,  _"It's okay, you're okay. You really don't need the razor today,"_  the stall's metal casing cool against his forehead or the back of his skull and keeping him grounded for about half an hour, before he had to get back.

During lunch hour, he slipped away outside to the roof, or the hedges lining the school, or into the boughs of the large trees  _(European Hornbeams and Trident Maples; both very impressive, if a little ugly in the coming months of winter)_  so he could try to recharge his batteries from the energy that Connor could not help but take from him. He never ate; too tired to even make an effort for such things.

* * *

Signing up to be a stage hand for the weird, quasi-science fiction play the school was putting on in a parody of A Midsummer Night's Dream had been something of a way to boost his standing in credits for college and as a way to blow off steam so Connor wasn't constantly pressuring him to get out of his house, stop doing all the cleaning and the laundry and try to broaden his horizons beyond going out to the woods, going to work, and contemplating how death felt,  _"I do not want you making the same mistakes I did here, dude. Trust me on this. I do not want my last point of grace to have been signing your cast."_

Christine Canigula had signed before he got there, offering him a pen with a flourish and sunny disposition that actually reminded Evan enough of Alana Beck, so that when Goranski shouted "GAY!" when Evan signed the sheet, he'd been pissed enough at the interruption of his fond memory to give the smaller teen a look with such loathing Rich had backed off and walked the other way, going so far as to drag Jake with him.

Connor had been pleased enough to actually  _not_  chill every bit of air within the hallway and settled for making the water fountain a few feet away spurt randomly a few times.

It was a rare moment in time where Evan actually wished that he was back where he still considered home to be. Sad to remember and his mood flitting away like a shadow after a bird in flight. His eyes had glazed and seemed to see clear through time and space, his anxiety mute like it always was when his dark mood stepped in.

He probably would have lingered too long in the hallway and drawn very unwanted attention if Connor hadn't nudged him and reminded him that he'd be late if he didn't get a move on.

Neither of them noticed the lanky kid that had a thing for Christine sign up as Evan walked away, but it didn't matter; they'd end up seeing him around in the weeks to come, whether they liked it or not.

Sooner rather than later.

He should have known his mother was going to give him uncomfortable news when she came home that evening while he was folding all the freshly washed and dried linens, her hair done up in a French Twist and a weirdly harmonized bounce in her step to the beat of the music playing and intermingling with the smells coming from the kitchen.

'80s Indie Rock and Italian, rather than the complete lack of any kind of smell and Evan's playlist on random buzzing through his earbuds before he stepped out into the night in concert with his mother not being home and his complete lack of appetite.

* * *

His skull feels like it's filled to the brim with poison ether and swarms of hornets, when Connor informs him that there are people at the door and his mother can't hear it over  _'Little Earthquakes'_  by Tori Amos playing in the kitchen while she stirs the spaghetti.

The laundry basket set against his hip gives the visitors a skewed perception of what they are looking at when he opens the door to find a man he assumes must be Mr. Heere, his skinny, bone-jangle son Jeremy just behind him looking beyond nervous at his father grinning with a bouquet of  _(ugh, **cut** )_ flowers in hand, and behind them, looking entirely out of place in bright red, Michael Mell, who Evan had met before some days earlier. An incident with the football team that had thought tossing things at the Junior trying to mind his own business would be amusing and Evan dropping out of a tree just before a tossed football could make contact. Connor had laughed for ten minutes straight when Evan caught the ball and tossed it right back at the head quarterback's dick.

The skewed impression Evan is giving with bright clothing in the wicker basket, the dead look he's had in place to keep from showing base amusement when Connor starts hovering around the three to give them goosebumps, the dark clothing that would look perfect on an '80s rocker who was likely to die from heroin before aged thirty; it certainly made it difficult to react in any right or wrong way when he nodded towards the kitchen.

He allowed them all to pass through the door, before letting himself outside and shutting it behind him.

_"You do realize you can hang that clothing up later, instead of making those guys worry they just stepped into the set of a horror story?"_

Evan nodded at Connor, but made for the clothesline anyway. He figured he could allow the lot of them a brief moment of warmth and getting to know his mother before he stepped back inside and sucked any chance of things  _not_  being awkward out the window by virtue if his simply existing.

* * *

"You found him sleeping in a shopping cart?"

Michael shrugged, enjoying the use of seasoning he had never come across before in the sauce for the leftover spaghetti that had turkey meat instead of beef or pork, on the following night where he was somehow added to the dinner date Mr. Heere had arranged for them and the Hansens.

He counted it as a win-win. He and Jeremy both got to see the woman that had the ability to make Mr. Heere put on pants for any reason  _(by heaven, she was at least 9/10; though they both had to wonder just how they met, since Heidi was a paralegal and Mr. Heere only really left the house to get food if the courier service they used was backed up...usually wearing shorts that showed off his hairy legs)_  and got to observe Evan like they were the cameramen in a nature documentary.

Evan was still a little creepy  _(they still couldn't figure out why it was cold as fuck when he walked in a room, and things just randomly fell over or opened and closed, and the lights seemed to make it their job to flicker if he was too close),_  but they decided he was ultimately polite and didn't go out of his way to make them uncomfortable. Dude just had a really bleak aura that screamed  _'loner who could kill you and then himself but probably won't'._

" _Sleeping_  might be putting it too generously. I actually kinda thought he was a dead body and poked him with a stick first."

"You poked him with a stick. The guy Rich Goranski actually goes out of his way to avoid in the halls at school. Poked. Him."

Michael set down his spaghetti and pressed start so they could resume trying to wreck zombies while they chatted inanely before they actually decided to do their homework, "He _wasn't_ mean about it. After the first few pokes, he just kinda snatched the stick away to break it and then asked me to not do that again. He even said please and everything."

"And then?"

"Well, of course I asked him what he was doing in a shopping cart at the far end of the parking lot in the middle of the night, but the best answer he could give me was that he was just exhausted after school and didn't feel like walking home until he'd recharged a little."

"He's part of the school play, so I guess that makes sense."

"He is?"

"Well, not, y'know like in the actual acting part, but he's one of the primary stagehands and helps the others with their lines and places and stuff. Also, from what I saw, I'm pretty sure he could bench press both of us at the same time and not even feel it," Jeremy waved vaguely in the air, trying not to come off as a little jealous, but Michael had known him for over a decade and wasn't fooled in the least, "In case you ever decide to poke him with a stick again."

"I believe you."

"He also seems to be a little friendly with Christine, so there's that to look forward to tomorrow when Mr. Reyes goes over our lines and positions again."

Michael raised his eyebrow and looked sideways to find Jeremy concentrating harder than he should have been, his own spaghetti practically untouched.

"Friendly hitting on her, or friendly just being in her vicinity and not walking away while she goes over her lines?"

Jeremy shrugged, exceptionally curious himself and not giving off the look of someone who thought the girl they were pining after was going to ask out the emaciated, borderline goth kid that kept to himself and always seemed to be around when weird things were happening; like Rich acting like a teenager with esteem issues that couldn't bring himself to act as he did around the other popular kids or all the lockers in the hallways opening wide by themselves when someone was getting bullied.

"He sometimes loans her his music player so she can focus and helps her reach things that are too high. But he...smiles...around her, so I dunno. For all I know he could be gay. I've never actually seen him hang out with anyone, so his personal life is anyone's guess."

* * *

"In what universe do you think it's a good idea to get something implanted into your body that has no information available on the internet and then recommend it to someone else under the age of eighteen?"

The previous year, Evan would never have been able to string so many words together without stuttering, or find himself towering over a kid that was a year his junior, or even make himself voice his annoyance at being interrupted in the bathroom by said kid banging on the metal frame while talking to someone else.

But priorities change and people change.

The one good thing about Rich doing what he did in the bathroom before and after following Jeremy inside and offering him something very insane sounding, was that the thudding of Rich banging on the stall had prevented yet another round of devolving into anxious disassociation and ripping new lines in his skin with jagged fingernails.

Evan figured that talking him out of whatever he was doing was a little bit like a thank you and a little bit like assuaging any guilt that might arise if the son of his mother's boyfriend actually took Goranski up on his offer.

"Also, stalls are not 'for girls,' they're for privacy. Kindly never do that again. It's rude. Now answer my question."

The wavy, static-like figure that Jeremy constantly saw attached to Rich made to open its mouth and supply an answer, much like the veritable shoulder devil engraved into modern culture as a joke, but Evan would not allow the transaction to go through this time.

"Connor."

The ghost was always so pleased to take a request to mess with things, giving him something to do and something, more importantly, for Evan to focus on aside from the demons in his head and the feeling of drowning on dry land. This was a rare opportunity to both do some good and not have to go through the rest of the school day with Evan without something to ruminate and meditate on.

The ghost hummed, hovering over to the sink and snapped his fingers.

The lightbulb at the farthest end of the mirror above the sink exploded outwards, something easy to do with all the energy Connor constantly took up from Evan and everyone else in his immediate vicinity, so he added in slamming all the doors in the stalls and dropping the temperature almost thirty degrees for the finale.

Evan waited momentarily, allowing Goranski to have a little moment to cling to the sink, knuckles turning white in his grip and eyes looking every which way until he met Evan's look again, the specter behind him silent, but on edge and taking in things happening out of the realms of the usual.

Both Evan and Connor did Rich the favor of pretending the shorter teen didn't scream when the glass popped, his breathing heavy and his nerves twitchy with fear as Evan continued, collected and less menacing, but plenty sure of himself in that moment.

"I wasn't asking the thing attached to you. I was asking  _you_."

Goranski looked at his creepy, hooded, not very pleasant seeming Squip  _(if Evan heard that right)_  and gulped down air and spit a few times before trying to answer as best he could without being prompted.

It was interesting to find he had a lisp that was a little cute, and disconcerting to realize that Evan would now have to keep an eye on both Jeremy  _and_  Goranski.

The much shorter boy seemed a non-functioning mess without consulting his AI, even in the process of consultation and performing directions given; being silent and observing of everyone and everything around him gave Evan the chance to notice the small signs of people that were in the running of being just as fucked up as Evan was. If prompted, Connor would look into spying for him, too.

Until then, however, Evan allowed Rich to leave, suggesting that he calm down, Evan certainly wasn't going to hurt him, and maybe talk to Jake so they could go out to lunch rather than stay in the cafeteria.

Then Evan started to plan how he'd try and talk Jeremy out of doing something stupid.

* * *

"...This guy's music selection only had three files."

"What are the options?"

Jeremy didn't even look up from his lines. A bright highlighter in hand in case he needed it while stuffing his free hand into his hoodie pocket, quietly hoping that Hansen wouldn't get pissed off at Michael playing with the MP3 player the Senior left hooked to the stereo to listen to before he'd have to switch it out for that weird techno-classical spliced background noise Mr. Reyes had decided to use for the theme of the play.

Although, Hansen didn't actually seem to have a setting in his personality for anger, so maybe he was worrying over nothing of consequence?

"Let's see, there's  _'Absolute Garbage'_  and ' _I Have No Taste'_  and ' _Connor's File'..._  which seems to be the most used?"

Jeremy took his highlighter to the words labeled with his character name and tried to reign in the urge to think too long on the implication on a file marked for a person whose name kept coming up among the Hansens when they were invited to dinner that usually made Evan get up and leave out the door without another word, and also made Jeremy think of an article on the internet from New York that meandered to New Jersey that he recalled being important; but he couldn't place the reason why. He sure as hell wasn't going to ask Heidi, given each time the issue came up she seemed to realize she'd pushed her son too far and automatically changed the subject.

Asking Evan wasn't going to happen, either. Guy might never seem to get angry, but that didn't mean he wasn't possibly violent.

It seemed too rude and private to give the go to listen to that file, so he suggested ' _I Have No Taste'_  and hoped for the best.

Michael shrugged and pressed down on the kind of rickety old toggle button for the MP3 that stopped being made in 2012, hoping that whatever was in the file was good enough to chill to while they waited for Hansen to come back from fixing a light in the rafters that was meant to be maneuvered to follow the background cast. Not the spotlight, but neither of them had enough technical knowledge to make commentary.

The surprise was when there came semi-somber chords of an acoustic guitar from the speakers, followed by a far cry from what they assumed would be heavy metal head-banger rock or something to slit their wrists to.

Instead they were allowed to enjoy a rather eclectic collection of one-hit wonders from old animated films they remembered from their own childhoods; an excerpt from Amy Poehler's audio book followed by an excerpt from an audio book about a serial killer that followed Joan of Arc into battle; Joan Jett winding through  _Bad Reputation_  before the rest of the members of the cast finally came in and Christine bounced over.

The music continued, for a long time even over the rehearsal and noise of everyone, but Michael noticed a subtle change that must have been the player switching to one of the other playlists when the other ran out about half an hour before he and Jeremy would leave for the mall.

The shift fell in line, it seemed, with when the heating either stopped working or accidentally switched to the A/C unit.

In that time, two bite-sized pieces of an hour, the music ran with parts and parcels of Fall Out Boy, an older Korn album, Johnny Cash and a little bit of The Smiths coupled with some obscure underground German mind-fuck shit that Michael was painfully aware he remembered from a foreign film he and Jeremy had seen sometime during the summer that ended with the main character wandering the wilderness after ruining his love interest's life and crushing his accomplish under a heap of rocks.

He was half-grateful when Chloe tried to fiddle with it after the mind-fuck music reached its crescendo and Hansen finally came down from the rafters to finally unplug the thing and head to...wherever he went after school.

The heat kicked back on after he left and Michael could not help but allow himself a harmless questioning look when Rich excused himself from watching a scene play out to follow the Senior through the door, coming back almost five minutes later and somewhere between his normal confidence and seeming alarmed at something. His hands kept tucking into his coat pockets, posture trying to bend in on itself before he seemed to snap to attention with a wince.

* * *

Evan was surprised to find himself disappointed when he got to the mall, parking his truck that was eco-friendly, energy efficient and looked like something out of a Studio Ghibli movie and found Goranski waiting out front like he said he would when he'd asked Evan if he'd meet him there hours earlier. An attempt to step out of his comfort zone and see what would happen if Evan managed to talk Jeremy out of getting a Squip.

His own Squip had apparently been squawking in his ear, demeaning him and questioning his life choices, making him jittery and uncomfortable enough that when Connor absently stuck his hand through his head and put the thing in hibernation he still bent over in a little pain, but let out a heaving sigh of relief when Evan was in front of him.

They would not make it to Jeremy before he had swallowed the Squip. Connor and Evan somehow felt that this was something that was meant to happen even if it was something that they both knew would lead to a whole lot of various problems down the line, but Evan wasn't going to beat himself up about being late when there came bigger problems.

Like Rich still walking with him to at least speak with Jeremy and the skinny twink writhing on the floor with Michael gone to get something from Spencer's Gifts.

With Jake and Christine right in front of him.

 _Ugh_.

Evan tilted his head, giving Rich a side-glance as the other rubbed his hands over his face in what could be defined as second-hand embarrassment and most probably was, all things considered.

"Is this all part of ingesting a super-computer?"

 _"Or should one of you call an ambulance?"_  Connor put in curiously, floating lazily five feet in the air like he was relaxed on a bed back home and only showing absent curiosity when Jeremy finally got up and seemed to be talking to himself.

Maybe the other Squip was a lot weaker than Rich's and needed time for Evan and Connor to see it?

Forgoing any answer that Rich might have said and giving into the devious whim of his becoming a busybody in death, Connor slid through the air, right through Jake and Christine, in fact  _(both of them still uncertain as to whether or not they should touch or talk to Jeremy at the moment, both tensing up like ice water was doused through their bones when Connor slipped through them)_  and just took the metaphorical plunge.

Which, later and in retrospect, might not have been the best move in the world. Jeremy's Squip had indeed only just activated when they came on scene, so Connor passing his hand through the sensitive electrons and tissues of his brain when he was just recovered from the installing process was...unpleasant.

Jeremy passed out in fact. Michael had come around the bend just as he'd hit the floor and the only reason the friendly kid hadn't assumed Jake had done something, still standing there with Christine as he was and an unsure bemused smile on his face, was due to Evan being fast on his feet and fast to act if it meant avoiding a fist fight where one wasn't needed and a hospital visit that would lead to too many uncomfortable questions.

It was a pity Evan's truck was only a two-seat, but at least he had somewhere to set Jeremy and let Michael chill out until the other woke up and allowed Rich to explain things he hadn't gone into in the bathroom when he'd thrown his pitch. And the bed of his truck was actually really comfortable, being wood paneled and with leaves from his yard piled inside so he could take them out to Poricy Park to use as mulch for some of the tree saplings he'd intended to pick up and plant later that day. If things got really bad, he could just let the boys rest and drive them home after buying slushies or something.

Sometimes having a job and nothing to spend the money on what didn't go to funding college had its advantages. He actually had disposable income at the end of the day if he really needed it.

* * *

Sometimes, Connor really believed that the only real difference between him and Evan was that Connor was a ghost, learning the ins and outs of being dead and having access to things he'd never dreamed of while he was still alive, and Evan was a ghost with a beating heart that had not yet given up.

He still, of course, tried to handle himself like a generally put-together person, a wonderful actor he could be if he ever tried out for the stage rather than just a hand in the background moving things along for the people that could bare to be under bright lights and exactingly awful observations of strangers. Playing people for the sake of being alone and playing people for the sake of amusing them in the most temporary way, however, was entirely different from one way to another.

The days piled up, feeling like eternity on his shoulders, and it was only October.

Shuffling across the mall parking lot to the perpetually open 7-Eleven, moon rising behind the both of them, Connor floated behind and absently tried to think of something, anything, to add some humor or activity to the end of a day of school; helping set up stage props while Christine flash-danced around set reviewing her lines and listening to Evan's music player; watching Jeremy follow his Squip's obnoxiously arrogant advice that made Connor think of Kleinman and so angry that he didn't care when he caused the Mountain Dew Jeremy was drinking to freeze and explode all over him; talking to both Michael and Rich because apparently they were just comfortable enough around Evan to approach him for advice; and stocking shelves at work at the mind-numbing pace only people in retail could understand.

Levity, his memory supplied, a vocabulary word that had been worth more points in the system than something with only three syllables should have any right to.

The bell above the door chimed and Connor finally spoke up,  _"If we weren't the way we were before I died, do you think we could have ended up, like... friends? Study partners? Closet boyfriends? Fucking each other in empty classrooms?"_

Evan's face and posture remained exhausted and only continued to move through fatigue to fill up a cherry slushie in a small cup, but Connor spotted color in his cheeks and ears not a byproduct of Connor's frozen air.

"...Would you have been able to stand being near someone like me long enough for any of those things to happen? I'd like to think," he sighed, rubbing at the bags of his eyes and attaching the lid to his drink, fingers numb and shaking as always, "That...if I had gone after you that day, we could have been friends. At least there could have been a chance."

He scratched at his left arm and Connor almost felt how much it must have hurt when Evan hissed, having forgotten he'd clawed himself during a panic attack at work and the scabs were probably sticking to his sleeves.

The ghost brought his hands to the arm, running fingers up and down the fabric so the skin underneath was allowed some relief in the contrast. At least it was something he felt he could do.

When he looked back up and gave the okay to move, Evan smiled sadly and meandered down the candy aisle, grabbing macaroons and green tea yogurt candies.

Once the items were paid for and Evan walked, Connor floating beside him, towards home to avoid the rain that was going to come in an hour, Evan spoke up again, finishing his thoughts he hadn't wanted to say in the store that Connor had hoped he wouldn't say at all.

"But we're both fucking cowards, so who knows."

* * *

Dreams after death, Connor found, had many uses. Not so much for him, except that it gave him time where he could go into a state of being present, resting without being aware, or it could give him a chance to change...things.

There was Dream Walking, Dream Weaving, Memory Recall, Messaging and probably more...

Getting the hang of it sucked balls, though. Especially since it required him to use people ( _Evan_ ) in a way that made him feel not unlike a scientist who really liked pets that unfortunately had to feed monkeys poison before cutting them open and examining what had gone wrong.

The first time was somewhere around November after he'd properly started haunting Evan, when he'd been bored and still a little jealous and cruel towards him. He'd just been glaring at Evan's sleeping face as it twitched with his dreaming, body trying to curl into itself, uncomfortable as always with the cast still on him. The taller boy had thought knocking their foreheads together would get Evan to stop, but no, that just left him inside what Connor would later call the Inception Matrix.

Yes, he would tell Evan about it later and, well, feel a little corny when Evan made a face like he was trying not to judge Connor for the film reference, but Connor was never that creative  _(he'd named his first pet, a tiny blue fish, Puddles; he had no illusions about his ability)_  and it  _was_  that freaky.

The Matrix reference was because, as Connor found out, he couldn't yet remove himself from Evan until he woke up on his own. Uncomfortable and inconvenient given that a lot of Evan's dreams were next-level sewer walking shit at times, and other times it was... interesting, but with a lot of red and orange flags constantly popping up in Connor's head.

The Inception reference came into play a month later when Connor actively tried to switch it up a bit and his own supernatural self gave him real-time options.

He walked through an arc that hadn't been there before, in a field that had been active for three dreams straight that was peaceful and quiet but boring as hell, and found himself walking through something like a warehouse full of hundreds of thousands of doors. Dates and times in plaques before him.

The secret was that those doors were memories that Connor could walk into, watch clean through until they ended and he was placed back into the warehouse, but they were Evan's memories and that meant Connor ended up feeling every emotion the other had lived at those times.

He didn't tell Evan at first. It was a rush and thrill to see someone else's life and wade through the things that made Evan an actual person instead of this guy that Connor was stuck with for the foreseeable future that had fucked up his own life.

Evan had the benefit of nearly photographic memory, everything so vivid and clear and unhindered by drug habits such as Connor. A detail Connor appreciated after walking into a memory of Evan at five years old, significantly before the anxiety had set in, walking along the shore at the beach near the end of summer; he'd been so tiny and precious looking that when Connor woke up along with Evan at six in the morning the next day, he couldn't help grinning at the comparison. Like that montage from the Lion King.

Connor found out the downside to this memory thing a week later when he'd walked through a door without checking the date and found himself standing below a tree that was over fifty feet tall, trunk wide and old, and Evan standing near the very top.

He hadn't had to be at Evan's level to know he was crying and suffering; Connor felt it like it was his own existence in that moment, ice crystals in his veins and black oil in his belly.

The crack from the tree branch that dropped Evan and made him grab hold of what he could reach was not surprising, because Connor knew it was coming. It was when Evan let go, fell, hitting so many branches on the way down, landing in a heap with a broken arm and  _not feeling anything_ , that was the surprise.

Some memories lead directly to others. Like rain drops that fall on windshields and merge into those sliding down. A trickle into a flood.

Connor had gone from standing below a tree, to standing in the hallway at school, Jared Kleinman calling Evan an acorn, unconcerned at the hurt look when he declined to sign the cast, "Family Friends" leaving the feeling of a punch to the gut in its wake, and Connor  _himself_.

It's really a waking moment of unreality, seeing one's self from another's perspective. Knowing the emotions one evokes in that other person.

Evan hadn't been afraid of him, exactly. He'd been disconcerted around him; not unlike when a person walks through an alley and there's a dog at a fence and it's barking, barking, showing its teeth, but it's not really a threat and even quiets down after giving it a little hello.

Kleinman had been a jerk when he'd said that ' _joke_ ' and Evan had felt guilty for not telling Jared off, but then he'd just suffered the nervous reaction of a half-cough, half-chuckle when Connor had needed someone to take his anger out on.

It was odd, knowing that Evan felt worse about being called a freak than he had been about being knocked down when he hadn't even really done anything.

The fall had, in fact, hurt, but it wasn't what bothered him. He was, it seemed, used to it by that point  _(jocks and other stoners and even cheerleaders seemed to have use for every chance to make Evan feel as bad as they could make him)_  and didn't seem to hold the physical violence against Connor at all.

In a way he felt he  _deserved_  it, and after Zoe showed up  _(oh, and there were butterflies in his stomach as well as the insufferable anxiety; that was an awkward moment to wait out, jesus christ)_  and Evan had made it to the computer lab and wrote that fucking letter, Connor found himself thinking.

_'Please don't let this have been as bad as I think it was for him.'_

He'd ended up getting half of what he'd hoped for.

When Evan wrote that note, that horrible note, it had been in an effort to do what he'd told his mom he'd try because he didn't want to disappoint her. But then it had devolved after he'd let his brain fuck with him, and wow that hurt when Zoe had come up as something more like an ideal of what a person should be rather than a creepy crush.

Connor closed his eyes and screamed internally a little when Evan pressed the print button and turned around to find Connor's living self there.

There still wasn't fear. Resignation, maybe, but not fear. That awkward anxiety, like floundering around without knowing the etiquette to a new situation. Connor's apology sparking empathy; Connor's signing his cast sparking something kind of warm; Connor's holding and then reading the letter and then yelling at Evan before stomping off like a fucking asshole with the letter in hand while Evan called that  _he needed it_...

It was the first time Connor yanked himself the fuck out of that place of dreaming and memory and looked down at Evan sleeping and felt like maybe there was actually a pretty good reason his ghost was haunting the trainwreck of a human being that slept on the mattress and cried even unconscious.

That was when he started to try.

Try to make Evan's life a little more worth living. Try to give him someone to ( _figuratively_ ) lean on. Try to make it like life wasn't always shit, because  _goddamn_  if they didn't owe each other in more ways than one.

Evan had made Connor matter. It had started on the basis of a lie that had been to make his parents feel less horrible about their son offing himself, which had then turned on its head to help other people in similar situations, but Evan had truly been on Connor's fucking side in the most fucked up way possible.

Connor was dead and Evan was a pariah, but maybe they didn't have to make like they simply tolerated each other because there was no other choice.

Connor asked, after summer had passed and Evan and Heidi had moved to New Jersey, Evan wandering around in the middle of the night at the edge of Poricy Park like a lone wolf staking claim to a new territory,  _"Hey, Hansen?"_

"Hm?"

_"Are we friends?"_

Sturdy legs significantly more built than Connor's had ever been stalled in their walking as Evan paused beneath the archway that lead out of the park, black metal soldered to give the appearance of ivy joining to form 'Welcome' off-setting the blonde standing below, blocking out the moon as Evan considered in less time than Connor would have when he was alive.

"...I think we are."

* * *

"This is one of the few nights of the year that you're more corporeal and you're certain you wanna spend it slumming at Dillinger's party?"

"Nothing like witnessing teen irresponsibility to feel more alive~"

"You hate people!"

"And yet even in the old days I loved gatherings. We might even be able to score some weed, now that I think of it."

"I'm not buying you weed," Evan stated clearly and concisely as they passed through the front door, both large fire extinguishers under his arms and Connor swaggering in with a platter of crackers, cheese and dips right behind him.

The party was, of course, in full swing with not an adult in sight ( _shocker_ ) and the smell of booze already intermingling with sweat, candies and questionable life choices. Which was no skin off of Evan's teeth as he set the fire extinguisher with the warning sticky-note beside the table with the fish bowl full of keys,  **'YOU USE THIS AND THERE'S NO FIRE, YOU GET YOUR ASS KICKED'**  and then made way for where he guessed the kitchen was.

This was not good for his anxiety, but his depression had decided to take the night off and he figured as long as he was cooking something and cleared away any booze from the kitchen, the reckless party goers would steer the fuck away from him.

Worked every day at play rehearsal, was likely to work when people were too drunk to know any better.

And hey, he might actually be able to see out into the living room and spot Jeremy, Rich or Michael, which was half the reason he had allowed Connor to drag him into the mess.

Because, in a weird way, Evan felt responsible for those three now that he'd gotten to know them.

Rich, oddly hesitant around him on account that Evan actually truly cared about what he had to say in spite of his Squip constantly telling him nobody wanted to hear his doubts and worries, but also oddly excited at the prospect of going to someone who knew about his problems with his father and his absent relationship with his brother and all his other neuroses and didn't judge him in the least.

Michael, such a strange boy that loved the people he was close to that could break through his personal bubble of his headphones constantly playing and his antisocial tendencies always keeping others away. Who didn't expect to end up relying on Evan once Jeremy's Squip started becoming more and more pushy with elevating his social standing;who didn't seem all that daunted in finding Evan in the middle of the night out in parking lots asleep in shopping carts, or wandering the park or fixing up the cemetery or all the other places he'd learned to look for the older boy.

Jeremy, who wasn't as anxious as Evan had been in his place, or suffered from deep bouts of depression that couldn't be done away with, but had issues with himself that he thought he could fix by hacking away the pieces that made him an actual person instead of some concept that would draw attention to him that he would eventually realize, or not, didn't matter in the broad scheme of things. Who evoked a protective instinct in Evan that Connor poked fun at once they both realized it wasn't too different from what Connor felt for Zoe when he'd read Evan's letter.

Evan sighed and allowed himself to look at Connor as he pressed through the bodies before them, the pale of his whole form off-putting to anyone who got too close, but also a little alluring, given that during these seldom and few days of the year, he gained some color back into his form that set him apart from the pale white-chalk-bleached out tones he sported as a specter; his eyes and hair especially. The lights about the place bouncing off his form made the difference clear and spectacular.

But Evan didn't linger, brushing past Jenna Rolan and Dustin Kropp to pass the door into the kitchen, fire extinguisher set beside the sink so he could start clearing away the empty Solo cups and beer cans into the trash _(and into the recycling; apparently harping about it around Rich while Jake was in earshot had paid off)_  and then go about washing the dishes piled high, maybe.

He really hated parties, but didn't complain as Connor set the plate of food they'd brought along into the spot Evan had cleared and segued back into the thick of the music and dancing.

"Don't give anyone a heart-attack!"

"Won't promise anything!"

The blonde resisted the urge to exhale again and rolled up his sleeves to allow his skin to breathe; the cuts healing with dark scabs and the white-white ink of Connor's name as good of a costume to lie about as anything the younger teenagers in the other rooms were sporting.

If asked about what he was, Connor had actually supplied Evan quite a few answers:

_A Walking Dead extra._

_A serial killer's victim._

_A junkie with an extreme paraphilia._

Honestly, so long as nobody tried touching him, the possibilities were long and disturbingly easy to pull out of thin air.

* * *

"Can you open the door, please?"

Connor nodded, easing his hand through the wood and taking just a moment to fiddle with the crappy button lock, trying to be quick on account of Brooke still wiggling over Evan's shoulder, Jeremy inside the room unable to move under Chloe's ministrations, and Jake probably coming up the stairs as they stood still.

Amazing, he considered, that the peace and enjoyment he'd gotten to experience that evening had been cut to a mere hour all because Jeremy Heere was apparently an idiot unaware that an attractive girl with jealousy in her veins and known throughout the school for her toxicity in relationships was going to be an excellent liar.

What he did for Evan.

The door opened with ease and Evan stalked in after Connor moved out of the way, kicking the door shut as an afterthought and ignoring the squawking from Chloe as they both tried to figure out how to ease into this.

"So girls can be just as deviant as boys when their partner can't move of their own volition," Evan noted, sarcasm dripping from his every word as Chloe got off of Jeremy just enough so Connor could stand right in front of her, before passing through her and belly-flopping through Jeremy. Only to jump back up through Jeremy again and cause Chloe to scream when he trotted back through her to stand beside Evan as the entirely displeased elder of the lot of them continued, "I guess we've reached full equality, haven't we Jersey Guidebook?"

The asshole Squip made something of a crackling noise as he fizzled out of existence once the cold Connor inflicted set in and Jeremy literally flung himself off the bed and away from Chloe to hyperventilate on the floor.

...Just in time for Jake to start pounding at the door.

"Yo! Jeremy Heere!"

"And that's our cue," Evan intoned in what once could have been trying to make light of the situation and now, Connor knew from experience, was him reaching the end of his patience with everyone and everything.

He tossed Brooke on top of Chloe with a simple suggestion of, "Here. Talk. Work out your issues, for everyone's sake," and then hauled Jeremy up like a sack of potatoes and headed for the window, easily opening it up and crossing over onto the roof.

Connor bolted the window behind them just as Evan heard the sounds of Jake busting in, confusion easy to hear when there was no Jeremy and neither girls spoke up: Brooke probably because she was still drunk and disoriented from being slung over Evan's shoulder, and Chloe because she was most likely trying to figure out what the hell had just transpired.

He grinned and floated after Evan, who easily walked along the roof tiles like he would along the trunks of old trees or boulder built hedge walls, regardless of Jeremy still breathing heavy atop his shoulder.

Once they had gotten to the other side of the house where another window was, but without light showing through or the pounding of the house music causing the glass to rattle, Evan inclined his head towards Connor. The ghost eased right on through, scouting to make sure they weren't to stumble in on a couple in the act of sucking face or unclothed, but luckily found it was but the bathroom.

With one of the people they'd been looking for that evening sulking in the tub directly under the window Evan would have to drop Jeremy through before he could get in himself.

"Hey, Michael," Connor greeted pleasantly as he could with his head passing through the glass and his hands having just a little trouble with the double bolts that obviously hadn't been used in a while.

Michael, not expecting anyone at all at the party to acknowledge him, let alone know his name, looked up at the ghost, blinking a little like a baby deer in new light leaking into its hiding place.

Connor was a little proud when, instead of screaming or freaking out in some other way like others had in the past during days of the year he was mostly solid, Michael rubbed at his eyes under his glasses and questioned, "Um, Connor? Evan's ghost, right?"

"Got it in one. Kinda surprised you're not freaking out, but I appreciate it."

Michael shrugged, taking the hint that someone was outside the window needing in as Connor finally got the locks to open. He stepped out of the tub just as the window frame slid upwards and Jeremy was carefully dropped into the porcelain like an exhausted kitten by its mother; Evan propping himself along the tub's edges and then hopping onto the floor. The awkward boy in the weed meme themed clothing seemed a little impressed at the low crouch Evan landed in, but didn't comment on it as Evan took note of his existence and gave him and little nod and a smile.

"Okay, that's two out of three," Evan spoke, yawning and rising from his crouch, back giving off the most unpleasant popping noises as he sauntered over to the door, only pausing to look back at Michael, "If it's all the same to you, I'm going to go find Richard and see how he feels about my driving him and Jeremy home. Last I saw him, he was having a bit of a moment and I don't think Jeremy should stay here after what just happened with Valentine."

"What happened?"

"Ahhh," Evan scratched his neck and waved Connor to check that nobody was outside the door as he answered, "Well, apparently the Jersey Guidebook is way more insecure than I first assumed and Jeremy's Squip is an enabling pervert as well as an asshole. But you can ask him yourself while I go look for Rich. Please don't let Jeremy leave; he shouldn't be allowed to do much else for the evening if Valentine gave him heavy liquor."

Evan didn't wait for Michael's response as he left the room, Connor remaining behind just a moment to give Michael and reassuring half-smile and a pat on the shoulder before following Evan out.

* * *

"Richard! Richard! Goranski, hey, hey, hey, don't pass out on me!"

Jake's room was a lost cause, and the hallway it branched out to that led to the Dillinger parents' room was smokey and awful, but since Connor had done a good job freezing the pipes in the bathroom and kitchen so they'd explode and flood the area, the flames had at least been stalled in their movement and when Evan had grabbed one of his extinguishers he'd taken his training in the park's service to good use when confronted with fire.

Rich was still a mess of burns since he'd refused to move from where he's intended to end it, on Jake's bed, alone in a house full of people; Jake's right leg was swelling from what Evan was pretty sure had to be a compound fracture due to being knocked around by the party goers rushing to escape at the first call of fire while he'd tried to go back and help his best friend.

Evan was glad for the help Jake tried to give, at least, when he'd found Evan expelling the extinguisher at the entrance of his room and done as the blonde had told him, to get the other red can he'd left up front and coming back even with the obviously painful limp.

Connor had gone to make sure Jeremy and Michael were okay, to find them in the midst of an argument that might well have gotten worse had he not shouted for them to get the fuck outside to Evan's truck and to call the fire department since every other teen running away were probably too drunk.

It was good to find that they'd both done what he'd said when Evan had exhausted the use of both cans and the loud, drawn bodies of the firetrucks were seen flashing down the street along with an ambulance or two, right as Jake burst out the door with Rich in his hold, Evan on the other side of the barely conscious boy looking pretty annoyed rather than pissed off.

All three were covered in soot and smelled like an ashtray, Jake collapsing to the curb when he couldn't take the pain in his leg with Rich's combined weight anymore and Evan just kept Rich from smacking onto the street. Instead maneuvering him so his head was in Jake's lap and waving the paramedics over in urgency as medical jargon flowed easily from his lips and into the medics' ears.

Connor had, up until that point, actually forgotten that Heidi Hansen had been a nurse before she'd been a paralegal, so Evan probably knew more about emergency situations than anyone at the party. Another lucky break.

"...Sixteen year old male, no allergies, smoke inhalation as well as second to third degree burns over sixty percent of his body. We put him out as fast as we could, but I'm not sure how long he was there before we entered the room. Another sixteen year old male, possible smoke inhalation and a break in his leg, likely a compound fracture of the right tib fib and possible first degree burns since he was trying to get inside before I got there; don't know if he's allergic to anything."

The paramedics looked a little stunned at the matter of fact way Evan spoke to them, but seemed grateful as they loaded Jake and Rich into the first ambulance.

When they tried to check Evan himself, though, Connor realized that the cuts along his arms had reopened and Evan hadn't noticed.

The medics, though? They noticed.

As did Jeremy and Michael when they tried to get closer and see how Evan was doing as he had seemed to start swaying a little; most likely coming down from the adrenaline and finding it hard to breathe from the smoke he'd inhaled himself.

When Michael had gone to grab Evan, Jeremy following on his other side, both felt that the red for the blood was not makeup but in fact real and slid under their hands like the most uncomfortable truth when Evan flinched away; his own hands yanking his sleeves back down to where they usually remained and then jamming fists into his pockets.

They found that Evan, indeed, had it in him to get angry. He wasn't violent, and he didn't say anything, merely agreeing to go with the medics in the rig so they could give him oxygen treatment and check him over.

But the look on his face...

* * *

Nobody really saw Evan for the rest of the week. His stay at the hospital had taken an hour, whereupon he'd left before they could call anyone and immediately he went back to Jake's after he'd swiped the boy's keys and told him he'd try and make the house less of a bio-hazard for when he got home in the next couple days.

Jake had returned home to find the first floor looking better than he'd left it, no traces or reminders that a party had even taken place; the plumbing pipes that had burst having been replaced and the water damage cleaned up. The second floor rooms had been stripped of all the soot and smoke infused linens, all of them washed and left folded in the laundry room closet. Wood flooring and other fire damage had been carved out and replaced with new materials that didn't quite fit aesthetically with what had been before, but Evan had left a little note that said he'd come back with paint for the walls and stuff for the wood to make them match if he wanted.

The note also said that he'd listed himself at the hospital and at the school as Jake's emergency contact since his parents were 'indisposed' until further notice and it saved time for both the most popular boy in school and Rich, since he'd done the same for the smaller boy as well.

And returning to school hadn't actually been as awkward as he thought it would be seeing as, wonder of wonders, Jenna Rolan, Brooke and Chloe had all been missing their phones since the fire and therefore unable to spread the information about Rich having been the one to set it. Dustin Kropp's phone had been stepped on in the chaos, so he hadn't been able to say anything either.

He'd gone about his classes like business as usual, the coach for basketball already having been informed he was out of commission for at least two months  _(the man had been annoyed, but had already been made to read through quite a bit of medical and legal paperwork that had been thrust upon him that morning detailing the repercussions of pressuring students into putting their health at risk)_  and Mr. Reyes surprising Jake with the assurance that he could still be in the play if he so chose. Not a hard decision, staying with the play, since he kinda liked it and had already memorized his lines.

That was just the first day, and he already figured that Hansen was ghosting around, playing guardian and protector to his and Rich's reputation, but no matter where he looked or who he talked to even days later, he was never able to catch up with the Senior and thank him for basically saving his house from burning down and keeping Rich from being a figure of gossiping ridicule...or a corpse, but he tried not to linger on that very specific detail.

Then he went to visit Rich in the hospital, being called up as one of Rich's other contacts and told that he was finally awake and off the morphine, worried about Jake and if he was okay.

When he'd entered the hospital room, carrying a little teddy-bear to give Rich something soft and cheerful to be near when Jake couldn't be, he'd been a little spooked to find Hansen in one of the uncomfortable chairs beside the bed looking significantly more worn out and pissed off than any other time Jake had seen him.

With a duffel bag on the bed and Rich speaking with him nervously, a bit of a lisp tinting his words before he noticed Jake enter the room, Hansen had looked up from his head hanging low and Jake visibly flinched at the mottled bruising along his left eye and the line of his nose, compounded by the big split in his lip.

His knuckles were all battered and scabbed as well.

Jake had little time to become aware that Hansen's lips were moving until his words actually struck through his brain and the hospital window that had been left open to let out the smells of medicine and stale air slammed shut.

"How do you feel about having a roommate when Rich gets out of the hospital?"

* * *

Nothing could have prepared anyone for the fiasco that was the play a few days after Evan had verified that Jake was more than willing to take Rich on as a roommate and Rich had been grateful enough towards the blonde for all his help to supply the million dollar question of how to turn off a Squip.

Evan was not going to put Jeremy in the danger-zone that was destroying himself enough to put the thing in permanent hibernation through attempted suicide, but gladly took the information about Mountain Dew Red and made a call to Michael, insisting he go to the play with a bottle.

"I know it's been awkward since Halloween, but I think he's going to finally make his move on Christine. At least this way, maybe, he'll consider the option."

Evan still had his job to do with the technical and lighting equipment in the rafters and had been aware that it was super sleazy to send Connor to eavesdrop on Jeremy and Christine, but, in retrospect after everything was said and done and the entire cast was being put into ambulances, he was glad he did.

Connor, of course, found it hilarious that Evan didn't get to hear any of the juiciest and most melodramatic bits of the incident; Christine of course rejecting Jeremy  _("Can't wait 'til she figures out she's ace, dude. That'll be fucking awesome,")_  only for Jeremy to find out his Squip could take over him like Hyde did to Jekyll and tried to pull an evil overlord move by Squipping the rest of the cast  _("Way too extra. Although the fact that Jake's Squip was a dog made my night, oh my god,")_  followed he and Michael having to go over their issues while Jeremy's Squip wasn't having it  _("THAT WAS SO AWESOME!")_...

All Evan got to do during the almost literal song and dance was maneuver some props and the sound equipment to keep the play going so the audience didn't get too suspicious and call the cops or something.

Followed by having to lie on the spot when everyone started screaming and fell to the ground after Christine drank the red Mountain Dew. While Michael was freaking out and calling 911, Jeremy's head on his lap that brought to mind some end scene from every bad fantasy book in the world.

"Apologies ladies and gentlemen, but it seems that the cast are unable to take their bows due to possible food poisoning. Please exit in an orderly fashion and thank you for coming to see this production of A Midsummer Nightmare: With Zombies."

Perhaps he shouldn't have said it with such a blank face, shown some emotion like distress rather than being so fucking done with everything.

Maybe then Connor wouldn't have laughed and caused all the traffic lights to short out the entire way to the hospital.

* * *

There was really something to be said about teachers that abandon their posts and force classes together from two different year brackets. Mainly that...the results are usually not great.

"...The Sandbox Tree and the Gympie Gympie Tree."

Michael shrunk back a little in his seat as the mixed class of juniors and seniors looked at Evan's eerie smile getting wider as he went on to answer their science teacher's request that they name the most hazardous trees or plants they'd heard of, site their world locations and explain what they did for themselves or the environment.

Honestly, Michael had forgotten what the purpose of the question was once he realized this was the first time in the two months he'd been in the class where Evan had even been inclined to answer, let alone look as excited as a serial killer with a new victim as he spoke.

He knew the kid had unending and approximate knowledge of all things plant, but  _jesus christ_...

"One is largely found in the South American and Amazon forests, known to grow poison barbs all along its trunk and produce fruits that explode. The other grows in Australia and has been known to cause both humans and animals to commit suicide from the pain caused after touching the leaves."

Perhaps it was Michael's imagination, but the room seemed to be losing some of its heat and most everyone else in Evan's general vicinity were trying to subtly lean away from the blonde.

"Extracts from the Sandbox Tree can, in the right hands, be turned into medicines."

The silence as they waited for him to continue stretched, and stretched, and stretched some more before the teacher finally prompted, "And the other tree? What benefits does that one have?"

Evan glanced at the ceiling a moment, seeming to debate with himself...or his ghost, Michael still wasn't sure how their thing worked.

"...It probably has the best defense exhibited by any plant on the planet? The only way to treat its sting is to wash the wound with watered down hydrochloric acid, after all."

The temptation to jump the fuck out of his seat was strong and very present as even the teacher gave Evan a worrying look, and yet, at that moment, with all the hairs along his arms and the back of his neck standing on end, and the chill in the air pressing down on him...

Michael was struck with the reality that this was the same dork of a human being that had asked Michael, as well as Rich before the fire, to help him plant daisies near some apple tree saplings he'd set up at the park and had squealed very loudly, as well as fawned and taken pictures, of one of the trees that was bent over from baring the weight of a heavy looking apple. Just one apple had the boy acting like a first time parent for the rest of the ride back to the city and had left Michael and Rich with a private in-joke and Michael feeling less shitty than he had been once Jeremy's Squip had started overhauling changes in his life.

He immediately relaxed and slumped in his seat, reminding himself to talk to Evan later and ask if he wanted to join Michael at the hospital to check Jeremy's progress, or even if he might want to help him pick out some new flowers for him since the old clover blossoms he'd gotten were dying. If talking about plants that had a death guarantee attached to them made Evan smile like a sadist, then bringing up plants meant to help would hopefully improve his mood from where it had been treading water since the whole issue with the Squip had to come out to Mr. Heere and, subsequently, Heidi.

Michael was aware that had definitely been a hard pill to swallow  _(no shitty pun intended)_  and since they were kind of friends, in as much a way as Evan could be friends with anyone once they realized he was attached to the ghost of a kid that he'd lied about being friends with once he'd offed himself and as a result ruined his own life from the lying and had so many issues that would send most normal people heading the other way... Michael should probably try and see if he could try and help.

Evan had, after all, helped a lot of people for what seemed like no reason that could benefit him; not least of all Michael, so it only seemed fair.

How remained to be seen, though.

* * *

Connor couldn't believe he didn't notice at first, one morning when Evan had gone non-verbal after a week of running around, interacting with his friends  _(their friends now, really)_  and helping organize the before and after of the basketball game Jake finally got to play in after a while.

Same game where they faced off against their old school.

It wasn't physically a problem, seeing as Evan had promised to record the game for Jake and everybody somewhere farther up in the bleachers so the entire floor could be seen and the panoramic would be more detailed to show off mistakes and successes. Evan had decided to wear one of his larger, darker hoodies, so even if someone had wanted to look for him, they couldn't have.

Had Evan not been hyper-aware as of late, making sure Jake did his exercises so his mended bone didn't hurt him, making sure Rich remembered to hydrate before going to work at his new job shelving books at the nearest science college library, being certain Jeremy wasn't avoiding Michael out of guilt and Michael not holing up in his basement smoking drugs and on and on; he wouldn't even have seen the three people on earth who probably hated him even after a year.

It was almost amusing, Jared Kleinman being involved with sports at any capacity, until Evan and Connor spotted Alana talking to him and then giving him a peck on the cheek before going to talk to the coach; followed swiftly by Zoe, in a cheer leading uniform  _(goddamn pom-poms and all)_  talking to him and Jared kissing her twice.

 _"One for me and one for Alana,"_  Connor had translated, being very good at reading lips.

Evan hadn't responded then, had not even acknowledged Connor saying anything at all after the game was over and done with, Middleborough winning in no small thanks to Jake being insanely tall and able to still score half-court points even when his ability to dodge and weave quickly had been compromised. He'd waited until the cheering and excitement had died down before shutting off the recorder, waiting more until he was sure nobody would notice his leaving, and then waited outside in the cold air that had nothing to do with Connor's worry, for Jake so he could give him a lift back home.

He'd even managed a smile and congratulations, offering and then paying for some insanely unhealthy sugary snacks from the 7-Eleven for when Rich came home and their other friends came to their house to watch the recording.

The next two days after and Connor could almost believe he'd imagined those three, and Evan really was okay; still assisting in the newest play rehearsal  _(Mr. Reyes had decided they should put a spin on Casablanca where all the roles were gender-swapped; Christine scoring the part of Rick and never more thrilled than she had been as Blanche DuBois)_  and even talking to his mother when she was worried about going to New York to assist on a big murder case.

But then one morning when nobody else was home, Connor had shifted out of Evan's body, out of the memories he'd been wandering through from when he had just started kindergarten and been fawning over ducklings the teacher had brought in for a pseudo-science class, and found Evan staring blankly at the ceiling.

Connor hadn't disappeared from Evan's ability to notice him, he followed him with his eyes around the room as Connor had floated about and blinked once for 'yes' and twice for 'no' when Connor asked him if he felt alright, could he talk, was he okay?

Then the ghost had taken a glance at the pills Evan kept in his cabinet for his anxiety and depression and realized like a kick to the gut that Evan hadn't taken his meds in over two weeks.

But Connor didn't ask why, didn't feel the need. He'd been there, even if he asked, the answer was already fairly evident and didn't need to be verbalized when Evan finally managed to get out of bed at two in the evening, crying heavily without making a sound and getting dressed so he could wander the back alleys until he got to the shopping cart he usually took up in that parking lot.

 _'I thought I was doing better'_  was something that didn't need explaining. Not between them.

There had been an umbrella left beside a dumpster Evan had noticed three blocks from the parking lot, just a few small holes and tears in the rim and the metal rod a little dinged up.

The sun was still out, even with clouds on the horizon approaching and promising freezing rain or the like as the last days of February had to get in the last bit of winter the season could hope to contribute.

Connor hummed and tried not to be pleased like a crazy person when he nodded at the forsaken object and Evan picked it up, walking with it in his grip the rest of the way and opening it wide once he'd taken his seat in that shopping cart. It cast shade over his whole form, and made him seem so very small in the cramped space as the sun was setting.

He closed his eyes, but did not sleep and Connor stayed close, but did not speak or try and make Evan contribute to an effort in feeling better when he was sure that it would be impossible at that point.

It was not something expected in the darkness when they were normally left alone, Evan in his silence or his panics and his sadness or Connor with his observing and just trying to be there for him, never expected that they might be found.

They had not expected it that first time, when Michael stumbled upon them in that first month of school when all other customers of the 7-Eleven had it ingrained in them not to approach the strange, dark teen in the metal wired cart. His curiosity stronger than what could be called self-preservation, asking on Evan's name and stating for fact and just to supply words that Evan wasn't from around there. Of course, that asking had been after he'd so rudely poked him with a stick, but that had been forgiven when he'd said he wasn't sure if Evan was a corpse.

This time was unexpected as well, but not unappreciated, as the sounds of footsteps came along behind, cautious but not afraid. Perhaps just worried on startling Evan when the very idea of causing him distress from an outside source in such a state as he was already in was incredibly ridiculous to Connor.

Still, Connor allowed them their caution and merely greeted them with a wave of his hand, fingers impishly curving up and down like a villain or a small child as he floated beside Evan, and his other hand remained tucked under his chin braced against nothing.

Jeremy waved back, hesitantly but polite, as he walked to the front of the cart where Evan's shoes were braced, and set his chilled fingers that were filling with red from the temperature at the tips at the top of the wire circling the cart.

Michael nodded his head, still not entirely able to always see Connor unless the ghost took more energy from Evan and put some effort into his appearing like a parlor trick, but able to hear him well enough when Connor was inclined to speak. He could not see Evan well from where he stopped at the back of the cart and gripped the handle; the umbrella obscuring much of Evan's form, but the little chunks missing from the stretched black waterproof cloth.

Evan was still so tucked up inside his pitch black misery that he did not acknowledge their presence. Perhaps unable to do so, perhaps only barely noticing them; like dust on the air, or a muscle twitch.

His eyes kept staring forward, past Jeremy's solid form and past anything that might have given him comfort in his lucid waking moments, only blinking often enough that all three of the others about him were assured he was not dead. Trying to observe his breathing did not give comfort in this way, lifting so seldom and so little and the wind noises from the weather stealing that guess away.

Michael tightened his grip on the cart and looked at where he could see the outline of Connor and smiled gently in understanding, Jeremy fitting his fingers through the slats on his end, their movement in sync and without jolt or imbalance so they could just circle around the lot until Evan came back to himself.

Connor remained beside Evan as the two boys steered the cart, just floating and present, for the both of them.


	2. the actual art that goes with this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the publishing of the art work commissioned for this fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a goddamn idiot for not putting these up sooner. What the fuck is wrong with me, this art was the entire reason this AU even got completed. 
> 
> So sorry for not putting these up, sooner, Cipher; so, so, sorry.

Opening:  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Closing:  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not make this art. I claim no ability to draw at all. This work belongs ENTIRELY to Cipherdoodles @ tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> Dunno if I wanna continue this story in any way, but here's that playlist:
> 
> Once I Was Mighty: Martina Sorbara  
> Stand Clear: The Recording Club  
> Main Theme: Faust (2011)  
> Plain Girl vs The Demon: Amy Poehler  
> Maybe Love: Steve McClintock  
> God: Tori Amos  
> A Sorta Fairy Tale: Tori Amos  
> Run to the Water: LIVE  
> Jetpack Blues: Fall Out Boy  
> Toujours Gai: Shinbone Alley  
> Lvího Krále Kytice: Wild Flowers (Czech)  
> All the Rowboats: Regina Spektor  
> The Marble Machine: Wintergatan  
> With Arms Wide Open: Creed  
> Light On: David Cook  
> Dreams: Van Halen  
> White Balloons: Sick Puppies


End file.
